Isn't It Funny
by artisinthecreationofsubtext
Summary: HarryxGinny, DracoxAstoria and DracoxGinny. If they both aren't single, and they both are happy, why are they both so obsessed?
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: **__**NOT MINE AT ALL!**_

_**A/N: **__I probably shouldn't be doing this but fuck life. I wanted one, okay. And if you know a good one, hopefully full of angst and jealousy and stuff, don't stop yourself from reviewing with the name because I WANT ONE. And by one I of course mean Drinny fanfiction. BOOM._

It was nice, after the last year, to have everything back to normal. It was absurd how much I had missed this, this tiny little thing. The feeling of belonging. Sitting at the Gryffindor table, laughing and joking with Ron, Hermione and Harry. Neville sat at the Ravenclaw table with Luna, as usual, but it made no difference to my happiness.

It was my seventh year. And to that, it was theirs too. The war was over, Voldemort was still in a closet, moulding up, and I was back at Hogwarts, sat with my friends, laughing. School was dull, but intruiging, not quite the adrenaline rush of the year before, but still perfect. And I was happy to be here.

"Gin!" Harry laughed, his hand flopped around my shoulder. "You're all in your own world!"

I smiled up at the love of my life. He could be such an annoying twit sometimes, always so angsty, always so stressed, but as he was still hopped up on the joy of being given a second chance at life, he was much more fun to be around. "I know," I giggled. I could never help it, not around him. I still felt like that eleven year old whose life he'd selflessly saved. "I was just thinking about last year."

"It's all over now, you know that. There's no danger anymore."

I nodded, agreeing, as my eyes met stormy grey ones across the room. My insides tingled as he smirked, no doubt remembering last night's patrols. "No danger, I know," _not from Voldemort, at least._

I couldn't help it. The way he made me feel. It wasn't like Harry, who was nothing but sweet. He was far from that. In fact, he was downright derogatory to me. But it didn't seem offensive, not at all. It just seemed… plain. Like there was no energy behind it. And I was sympathetic towards him, I had lost my brother, sure. But he had lost his parents. Lucius was locked up in Azkaban for the remainder of his days, and Narcissa, I know, had fallen into a deep depression. He was putting up a shield, and a pretty convincing one, but I could see the cracks.

I lay on the sofa in the Prefect's lounge, staring at the crackling fire. Draco was sat on the opposite chair, making no effort to hide his stare. He was watching me. I could feel it. But I wouldn't look up, for if I did, I'd have to go through the pain of hearing him half-heartedly insult me, and it would make me pity him, and that was scary.

After a while he stood up and left for his rounds. I was timetabled for them too, but there was no need. Hermione was out, as Head Girl, and she would run the show. I sat and pondered life.

I am Draco Malfoy. I am a pure blood. I will marry Astoria Greengrass and inherit a fortune. I am not in the slightest way interested in some little ginger blood traitor.

I repeated that mantra over and over again as I completed my rounds. Granger walked ahead of me stoically. _I wonder what she'd say if she knew I was lusting after her boyfriend's baby sister. _I shook my head and cursed silently. No, I'm not. I'm really not. I'd rather die that do that.

_And yet._

No.

_But her hair…_

No.

_She's like a spitfire, and a complete genius with a broom…_

Yeah, I'm sure she will be when she finds out what you've been thinking of her. It would take a genius to shove that broom so far up your-

_Maybe she likes me. She looked at me at lunch. Maybe_…

You're an idiot. Now shut up. You are a Malfoy. She is a Weasley. Don't dirty yourself.

I slammed a door open viciously, terrifying the two second years that were using the room as their romantic haven. "Out." I said furiously, pointing my wand. They shuffled towards the exit as Hermione appeared behind me.

"Ten points from both Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, Mr Brown and Miss Pursgill. I hope not to come across you again, or it will be detention." She said snottily, stopping them as they meant to go to their dorms. "I'm disappointed, Miss Pursgill, I thought you better than this."

They squeaked their apologies and ran away, and I was disappointed when I fund no glee in their fear.

_Curse you, Weasley._


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer: **__**NOT MINE AT ALL!**_

_**A/N: **__**Some spelling mistakes in the last chapter. I apologise profusely.**_

I watched my cauldron carefully. Weasley was but a red blur in the periphery of my vision, and yet I still focused more on her than I could on the potion simmering a buttery orange in front of me. Shifting my stool, I removed her from my sight, and yet could still feel her presence like something physical.

Slughorn pattered about at the front, tittering on at Potter, who grinned widely. He was such a prick. Since the last year, he floated around the school like he owned it, and everyone let him, because they were _oh so proud_. Not me. I got no special treatment. The embarrassment of me joining the losing side stuck with me, and all I ever got was distrust. But I am a good person. I know I am. I just wanted to protect mother, and it was all for nothing.

Astoria would accept me. Astoria loved me. She loved me and she barely knew me, living all the way in France, where her parents moved her before the war. Her letters were crumpled beneath my socks in my dormitory, smelling of her perfume, and acceptance. The only other time I felt so warm was when _she _looked at me, across the Great Hall, with sad eyes.

I couldn't help it. I turned my stool back around and snuck a glimpse to my right…

My breath hitched. She was watching.

I don't get it. I'm not much to look at, that's why I'm so lucky to have Harry. My clothes aren't the best. I'm scrawny and pale and I wear heels on my shoes to give myself at least the smallest boost of posture. But he looks at me. Why does he look at me?

I know he has a girlfriend. Astoria Greengrass. She's rich and pureblooded and beautiful – descended to some degree from Veela. She could make him happy. And yet he looks at me. _Me._

I watch him as he fights temptation, fiddling with his fingers. He appears to give up, and turns his chair a couple of degrees. Now all I can see of him is his platinum hair, dulled a little from the dankness of the Ministry holding cells where he had spent his summer before being Pardoned. His skin was sallow now, and he was more than a little malnutritioned. But it just makes him more vulnerable, setting off the infamous Weasley mothering instinct within me. I want to help him. I wish I could.

And then there's the fact that he appeals to base female instinct. He sets off my hormones with those penetrating glares. My heart wants to jump out of my chest, not just with excitement, but with fear, when he passes me in the hallway. It's ridiculous. I should be better than this. I have The Chosen One.

So why am I selfish enough to want more?


End file.
